


I See Right Through Me

by anomalation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (The Kate Argent Trifecta), Derek Hale Gets Therapy, Emotional Constipation, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, Pack Family, Plentiful Sarcasm, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, a moment for everyone to shine in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalation/pseuds/anomalation
Summary: A bunch of in-between moments during senior year and college. A sort of sequel tomy other teen wolf fanfic.Mostly about how Allison and Derek are two sides of the same coin, and they can't decide if that's a good thing.Canon compliant with the first two seasons mostly, and some of 3 if you squint.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Derek Hale, Allison Argent & Lydia Martin, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Derek Hale & The Pack, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	I See Right Through Me

“Y’know, I’ve thought about it long and hard and I’ve come to the conclusion that I will only date you if you go to therapy,” Stiles announces out of nowhere. 

“I literally never asked you out,” Derek says, unfazed. 

“I know. Believe me, I’m aware. And I can only assume it’s because you’re waiting for my terms. So I’m laying those out here, in good faith.” 

Allison rolls her eyes and looks over at Stiles. “You can’t just say in good faith like that means something. Unless you mean everything else you say is in bad faith.” 

“Which might be true,” Derek interjects.

Stiles regards them both with narrowed eyes. “You’re ganging up on me,” he says. “Wow. Unfair but not unexpected.” 

“Okay, hold on.” Allison leans forward in her chair, the footrest snapping down with a loud mechanical sound. “When am I unfair?” she demands, elbows on her knees. 

“Never! I wasn’t… it’s just a… general sort of saying,” Stiles says defensively. “I’m not attacking you specifically.”

“So you’re attacking _me_ specifically,” Derek says.

That makes Stiles sink down into such a deep slump, arms crossed, and glare at the paused TV angrily. “Y’know,” he says, “I’m just trying to be proactive, here. I’m trying to take some action.” 

“When I want action taken,” Derek says, stiff and cross, “you’ll be the first to know.” 

“Really reassuring,” Stiles grumbles. 

Lydia comes back from the bathroom then, and soon after Isaac and Kira follow her in with their bowls of snacks. “These are so good,” Isaac says to Lydia, holding up a cookie. 

“Mom’s secret recipe,” Lydia answers, which is sort of like saying thank you. 

“C’mon let’s go,” Kira says. “We can do it, we can finish tonight.” 

“We won’t if we keep pausing for discussion,” Lydia says pointedly. 

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Like I’m not supposed to discuss the ramifications of Quicksilver’s ability to-” 

“Later,” Isaac says. “We all agree with you anyways.” He sits on the floor, his back against Allison’s chair. She can’t put the footrest up again, but that’s well worth it. 

It’s what Scott calls nerd date night, which is always a lot of fun. But Scott excusing himself from these nights means they can get volatile. Isaac’s left being the peacemaker, or sometimes Lydia if she’s feeling nice. Everybody loves yelling about absolutely nothing and arguing about less. Or everybody but Derek, who usually doesn’t talk. 

Allison would say she’s not sure why Derek’s here, but she knows. The way Stiles looks at him when they aren’t talking or arguing, the way Derek is always remarkably relaxed, for him. Derek doesn’t have people - Kate took them from him. And, as he likes to remind all of them, he’s a lot older and not technically friends with any of them. But the thing about these nights is that Allison’s starting to think this is the closest it gets, for him. Sitting in a room full of people he knows won’t kill him, not being in charge. That might be Derek’s best idea of a good time. 

Stiles has to leave first, when his dad calls him. “I said I’d be home by one, how could you think I meant eleven?” he demands, but he’s already getting up and heading for the door with an awkward sort of wave to the room. 

“Do we have to be back at any particular time?” Isaac asks Allison. 

“No,” she says. “Whenever.” 

Isaac nods and leans back, his head against her leg. He falls asleep there, before it’s over, and Allison spends a lot of the climax looking at him instead of the screen. 

When the credits roll, everybody else gets up - bathroom, to put their plates in the sink - but Allison stays where she is to let Isaac sleep a little longer. Derek comes back first. “Hey,” he says. They’re alone, but for Isaac. 

“Yeah?” 

“You said you’re in therapy now.” 

“I am,” she answers, endeavoring to not feel like she’s being trapped. 

Derek nods - she knows what this nod means, information successfully acquired. “Okay,” he says. “How do you talk about your family stuff?” 

“It’s easy,” Allison shrugs. “I don’t give specifics, but. I tell them my family on my mother’s side are founding members of a cult targeting members of a minority ethnic group.” 

“Like the KKK?” Derek says, the disbelief as apparent as he lets it get. 

“I let her draw her own conclusions,” Allison shrugs. “It’s functionally true, anyways.”

“I guess so.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “How did you decide who to see?” 

Allison shrugs again. “Google.” She ruffles Isaac’s hair. “C’mon, babe.” And then it occurs to her. “Hold on. Are you asking how to get yourself a therapist?” 

Derek is extremely uninterested in answering the question. “Alright,” he says. “I should be going.” 

They don’t talk about it any more, but a month later or so, Stiles is in the middle of a typical motormouth rant through lunch and Allison perks up at one thing. “Oh,” she says. “Wait, go back.” 

“Which part? The stuff about my MIT application?” 

“Before that.” 

Stiles frowns. “Derek said that his therapist thinks-” 

“He has a therapist?” she demands, cutting him off. 

Stiles doesn’t take being interrupted personally. “Yeah,” he says. “His newfound commitment to mental health is really cramping my style, I gotta say. His therapist says it’s important for him to communicate how he’s feeling or whatever.” 

“And how’s he feeling?” Scott asks, slightly skeptical. 

“Says he needs _space_ ,” Stiles says, in the tones of someone who has complained a million times about this and will complain a million more. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Isaac and Allison share a look. “Well,” Lydia says from Scott’s other side. “I assume it means he wants some space. You can be kind of a lot. When you like someone.” 

Stiles made several injured huffing sounds. 

“That’s not a bad thing, necessarily,” Scott says. “It’s just… a lot.”

“That definitely sounds like a bad thing,” Stiles frowns. “It feels like you don’t want to tell me it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with being direct?” 

Allison looks at Scott. “Nothing,” she says. “But you’re the kind of direct that doesn’t give him a ton of space to want some… space.” 

“This is all starting to feel very Abbott and Costello,” Isaac mumbles, and Allison catches Lydia’s snort. 

“So what, I’m supposed to leave him alone? And like go to college and experiment with heterosexuality?” Stiles says unenthusiastically. 

Scott grins. “Well. Let’s not go crazy,” he says. “No one’s saying you have to abandon a whole gender.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs with all of his upper body. “It’s just Derek’s so…” 

“If Derek’s the right person, he’ll be the right person in a few years,” Lydia assures Stiles with something close to real sympathy. “And the best thing you could do now is listen to him.” 

That’s right, but not quite right. It’s not all of the details. Stiles doesn’t seem to understand anything about Kate. And it occurs to Allison, then, that nobody here knows Derek quite as well as she does. 

It keeps happening like this. Allison doesn’t mean to learn things about him, but Derek and her dad are strange sort of friends too so Derek’s over a lot. And that just gives Allison a ton of chances to realize more insane things about the guy who saved her life last year. 

“You own a building?” she asks. “When did you buy a building?” 

“Two years ago,” Derek answers. 

Dad’s helping him with his taxes, just like he helps Allison and Isaac with theirs, and Allison’s on the couch. Not quite eavesdropping, but listening. Some insane facts have arisen. 

“Who’s been paying your property taxes?” Allison presses. 

“Me,” Derek says patiently. “How do you know about property taxes? Are you some sort of accounting savant?” 

“Dad helped Isaac figure those out last year.” 

“Oh, with his father’s house?” Derek asks, and Allison nods. “Good.” 

Yes, good. Considering that it had been almost a year since his dad died and nobody else had done it. Allison looks away. 

“What,” Derek says. “What does that mean?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You think I should’ve done that for him.” 

Allison looks back up at him. “I think a lot of things,” she says. 

“Tell me.” 

“Why?”

Derek just keeps staring at her and waits. 

“I think you’re bad at taking care of people,” Allison finally says. “But I don’t know how much I can blame you for that.” 

“As much as you want,” he says, like that’s a dumb question. “It’s your opinion.” 

But Allison shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I want my opinion to be right. And fair.” 

“Sure,” Derek says. “Everyone wants to be fair to me.” 

She can’t say anything about everybody, only herself. But even then, it’s not her job to soothe this man’s nerves or ego or whatever is making him be such a baby about this. She wants to be fair; she told him that. That’s what he gets right now. 

Dad comes back then, with two cups of tea. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s get into the estate.” So he and Derek do that and Allison firmly checks out. She’s texting Scott anyways, they’re making graduation party plans, one for all three of them - him, her, and Isaac. It’s complicated. Several weekends are out already, claimed by Lydia and Kira and other friends, and it has to be a weekend Melissa can get off work. It’s difficult. She doesn’t notice when Derek leaves.

“Ally,” Dad says, and she looks up. “Everything good?” 

“Yeah, what do you mean?” 

That prompts Dad to come sit with her then, on the couch, and Allison puts her phone down for whatever conversation is about to be happening. “Honey,” he says. “Are you alright with Derek being over here?”

“Oh, Dad, yeah,” she frowns. “Of course.”

“Well, I just want to make sure. Because every time I come back in the room, the two of you seem to be having some kind of tense conversation, so. I am more than willing to keep him away, if-” 

Allison’s shaking her head through most of that. Finally, she cuts him off. “No, Dad,” she says. “It’s good tense. It’s like, actually talking about things. And I think he’s mostly tense, anyways.” 

Dad huffs out a laugh. “Good point.” 

“Really,” Allison says. “It’s okay. And I think he kind of really needs, like. Adults,” she finished with half a laugh, and Dad echoes the laugh back. 

“Fair point,” he says, and pulls her in for a hug. “Proud of you, kiddo.” 

“Thanks,” she says. “Do you have a sec to talk weekends for parties?” 

Jackson surprises her by coming home for her grad party. Shows up on their doorstep with several large suitcases two nights before out of nowhere, and asks, “Spare room still empty?” 

“Yeah, are you staying for a while?” Allison asks. 

“Sure,” Jackson says like it’s her idea. He hugs her tightly. “Actually,” he says then, into her hair more than her ear. “I was sort of thinking longer-term.” 

Allison frowns. “Oh?” 

“Yeah. I’m moving back,” he says, and she pulls back to look him in the eye. 

“What?” she demands.

“It’s not a big deal,” he lies. “London just actually sucks and I don’t know anyone there, I’m not gonna volunteer to be there four more years. So. If your spare room has other plans, I’ll get an apartment, but-”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. “Are you really staying?” 

He nods, a slight smirk on his face, and Allison pulls him back in for another hug. Tighter than last time. She feels happy tears welling up in her eyes, wipes her face as they separate for a second time. 

“Ew, babe,” Jackson says with distaste. “We don’t have feelings.” 

“Of course we do,” Allison tells him. “And that’s okay. We’re still killers.” 

Jackson takes that the exact right way, like she was counting on. “Hell yeah we are,” he says. “Help me with my bags.” 

“Oh thank God,” Lydia says when she stops by that night and finds Jackson and Allison watching Mulan together. “I thought I was going to have to convince you that you were miserable,” she says to Jackson in particular. 

“I’m not miserable,” he says with an eye roll that means that’s a lie. 

Lydia snorts, but she doesn’t tell him he’s wrong. A real sign of growth. “Well,” she said. “Just a warning? Allison’s dad has basically adopted Derek. He’s over here all the time.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jackson sighs. 

“It’s weird,” Lydia agrees. 

Allison glares between the two of them. “Hey!” she says. “What the hell!” 

“Look, we’re your best friends. We get to bully you,” Jackson tells her, and Lydia nods importantly. 

“Bully me and live in my guest room?” Allison says. 

“Exactly,” Jackson grins. 

Lydia stays to finish the movie with them, perched primly on one side of the couch with Allison in the middle. Jackson is himself, which means not nice exactly, but he’s also better than usual. Less sharp. He must really be happy to be back. 

He even behaves himself at the grad party, for the most part. Or at least, nothing is noticeably bad. Allison’s kind of busy making the rounds with Scott and Isaac, greeting everyone and making sure that everybody’s eating and that she’s opening cards with an appropriate level of excitement. She doesn’t worry too much about Jackson - everyone here can handle themselves. 

The only thing that gives her pause is when she and Scott finish greeting Kira’s family and she turns to find Isaac and Jackson talking. That’s a duo she’s kind of been keeping apart - and it hasn’t been easy, keeping one of her boyfriends away from one of her best friends. But Allison knows that were neighbors, and she knows that relationship is kind of fraught. Isaac wasn’t really a person in Jackson’s mind, when they were in high school together, and Jackson was really not great to people who weren’t people to him. 

She goes over to them, trying not to look too obviously like she’s hurrying. As she approaches, Jackson smiles in a mean way. Isaac ducks his head. She sees his smirk a little too late. She’s already standing next to them when she realizes that, oh. They’re sort of flirting? 

“Hey,” Jackson says to her. “Are you ready to make a run for it yet?” 

“Not quite,” she answers, and looks at Isaac. He seems okay. Would she know if he wasn’t? This is a strange situation. “How are you guys?” 

“Fine,” Isaac says. 

“Good,” Jackson agrees. “You know we know each other, right? We don’t need you to come smooth things over and make small talk, or whatever you think we need.” 

Allison doesn’t quite know what to do here. That is sort of close to what she’s doing - too close to correct. “Uh,” she says. “Right. Just checking.” She glances at Isaac again then. 

Isaac has a better idea of what she’s up to; he looks at her closely, with a bit of a smile. “It’s okay,” he says. 

“Um, what is?” Jackson demands flatly. He doesn’t do well being left out. Probably the being an orphan thing, though Allison would never say that. 

“Nothing,” Allison says. “Just… you don’t have the most… neutral history.” 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Jackson says, his voice getting higher. It sounds like he’s annoyed, which is how Allison knows he’s unnerved. 

“Nothing,” Isaac says. “I’m fine.” 

“ _You’re_ fine?” Jackson says louder. 

Great. Allison’s brought about exactly what she was worried about: Jackson making a scene. She motions at Jackson to keep his voice down, and he gives her a furious kind of look. “Please,” she says. “Can we not do this right now? Can we do this later?” 

“I didn’t even know we were doing something,” Jackson says in a furious whisper. “What the fuck! Allison!” 

Isaac has a smile on his face, growing by the second. “Allison,” he says reasonably. “Go put down the cards you’re holding. We’ll do this later. Jackson, it’s fine. I’d know, okay?” 

“Okay.” Allison goes. 

As she does, she hears Jackson say in an urgent stage-whisper, “ _What’s fine, though_?”

There are other things to worry about right now, like how Scott seems to be making himself very popular with the French cousins, the cousins who are definitely still hunters, and not aware that there are half a dozen werewolves here. Or how Dad and Derek and Melissa are talking with people that look a lot like the Mexican hunters Kate told Allison about. Or Liam, listening very politely to a hunter from Mom’s side of the family talking about tracking strategies.

Actually, now that she’s thinking about it, there’s something to worry about in every part of the back yard. Allison ends up in her room, sitting on her bed and taking a second to practice some even breathing. 

Of course, she doesn’t get a second to herself. The house is crawling with people. Someone sort of stumbles into her doorway, someone she doesn’t totally recognize. “Hey,” he says awkwardly. He has dark skin, meticulously groomed hair, and looks too young to be anyone she knows. Honestly, he looks a little bit like a nerd. 

“Hi,” she says. 

“Looking for the bathroom.” 

“Oh, yeah, next door,” she says. “What’s your name? Sorry.” 

“Mason,” he says. “Liam’s best friend.” 

That does ring a bell. “Oh cool,” she says, and then to be polite, she adds “I’m Allison.” 

“I know,” he says with a smile. “Great party.” 

“Thanks.” 

Mason doesn’t stick around, thankfully. Allison gives herself another minute and then heads back downstairs for the final two hours of the party. 

Scott finds her the moment she’s back outside, puts his arm around her and kisses her cheek. “Hey babe,” he says. “Have you eaten something yet?” 

“Um, I don’t think so,” Allison has to answer, and then feels kind of dumb. Okay, so she’s hungry. That’s a lot of her mood. Scott gets her a plate and steers her through the food line. Allison picks up a slider and a coke and a shitload of potato chips and sits down and eats. It helps her mood significantly. Even better is when Isaac joins them. 

They’d decided ahead of time that she and Isaac would keep things low-key today. Most of everybody knew she and Scott were back together - it was impossible for Scott to pretend he didn’t love someone, after all. And the whole two boyfriends thing was a lot for even Allison to process, still, so she didn’t really want to introduce that concept to her extended family. They probably assumed Isaac was with them because of how he didn’t have much of a family left - and that was kind of true, but also none of them are interested in doing any big things without each other now. 

All that to say, when Isaac joins them she can’t kiss him. She can’t run her hand through his hair, which is getting longer again, so she keeps her hands busy with her food. “Hey,” Isaac says, in that quiet affectionate way he has for just them now. Scott beams at the sight of him. “Doing okay?” 

“Doing… okay,” Allison confirms, and leans in to say quieter, “Doing better before I realized that this is probably the largest social gathering of hunters and werewolves in the world, ever.” 

Isaac nods sagely. “Your dad said he’s enforced a no weapons policy,” he says. “So that’s good, at least. Gives us a fighting chance.” 

“Do not joke about this!” Allison hisses. “This is dangerous!” 

“We’ll be fine,” Scott assures her. 

Allison’s working on trusting other people. It’s one of her prime goals in therapy. So she pretends she believes Scott, for now. Practice, just like target practice. “Well,” she says to Scott. “I’m glad you’re staying the night with us.” 

“Me too,” Scott says. 

Melissa comes over to them and gives Scott and Isaac kisses on the head. “Hey,” she says, one arm around each of the boys. “Hang in there, we’re almost done. We just ran out of booze, so. I predict the party winding down.” 

“Ran out?” Allison repeats in disbelief. 

“Well,” Melissa shrugs. “Ran out, hid the bottles. Same kind of thing.” 

“You’re the best,” Isaac tells her, and she pats his shoulder. 

Stiles plops into a chair next to Allison as Isaac’s talking. “Are you gonna finish that?” he asks, and takes some potato chips from Allison’s plate. 

“Yes!” she answers crossly. “I am.” 

“I’ll get more for us,” he says, unconcerned, and gets Scott’s attention. “Did you see? The guy over by the telephone pole has spurs.” Scott looks, only for Stiles to whisper furiously at him not to. “I was asking if you saw, I didn’t say _look_ ,” he says. “Jesus.”

“He’s from Mexico, right?” Scott says. 

“I dunno. He certainly _looks_ the part of a cowboy.” 

“A vaquero,” Melissa says, and heads off in Dad’s direction. 

“I bet the spurs are silver,” Stiles says, half to himself. “That’s so badass.”

Isaac makes a face. “Well, less badass that he’s probably killed some of us with them,” he points out. 

“Don’t be a baby, it’s not like we’ll let him kill _you_ ,” Stiles says, not really listening. “I bet they know some great shielding techniques.” 

“Go get his number,” Allison says. “If you really want to connect.” 

Stiles makes a face at her, so annoyed and frustrated and then he glances back at the guy. He’s the youngest of the Mexico contingent, arguably the hottest. Stiles could do worse. “Maybe I will,” he says, and then he looks at Derek across the yard. 

“Do it,” Allison says, and Stiles goes. He’s charming when he wants to be, in that over-energetic type A way. He talks the ear off of the guy, shifting back and forth on his feet, and does get his phone number and also gets a smile. Allison catches Derek watching, but Stiles doesn’t. He heads back to the table, victorious, and takes his seat again. 

“So, there,” Stiles says, and then quieter, “I need a drink.” 

“Wait till your dad’s deputies leave, maybe,” Scott suggests.

“Ugh. Someone go commit a crime,” Stiles sighs. “Who does Parrish even know here?” 

“Derek,” Lydia answers, sliding into the chair next to Stiles. Kira brings a chair over to sit between Stiles and Lydia, a little further back. And the thing about Kira is, she’s basically the only person Stiles would move over for without complaining the way he does now. It’s special. 

“God. Who invited the senior citizens,” Isaac says, and a couple people snort. 

Jackson sets a chair down, loudly, between Lydia and Isaac, and sits down in it heavily. “Hey,” he says on a sigh. “Your family’s weird, Ally.” 

“At least she has a family,” Isaac responds. 

Stiles and Scott give identical, wide-eyed looks at the table. Lydia’s smile grows, and Allison just feels so happy she could burst because her people all truly, really, get each other. Jackson’s annoyed but not upset, and Isaac is comfortable with him. It’s miraculous. 

“So,” Lydia says. “You’ve worked out your tension, I see.” 

“There was tension?” Kira inquires innocently, but that just sets Lydia up to answer and explain the way she really wants to. 

“There was,” Lydia agrees. “Because Jackson knew Isaac’s dad was a sociopath and didn’t think it was important enough to say anything.” 

Jackson shifts uncomfortably. “Fuck you,” he says. 

“Yeah, Jackson,” Isaac says, “Why didn’t you sweep in on a white horse and save me? Very irresponsible of you.” 

“Look, I killed the guy eventually,” Jackson says. “So. You’re welcome.” 

“Don’t remember thanking you.” 

Stiles cuts in then. “Okay!” he says brightly. “This is a weird energy to bring to the grad party. Can we maybe tone it down?” 

“Tone down what? I haven’t done anything!” Jackson says louder, defensive again. 

Before Allison can kind of panic about it, Lydia handles it. She tries to pull him closer, and after a moment Isaac helps and pushes Jackson’s chair with his foot. Lydia gives him a look, from a few inches away, and says, “Babe.” 

Jackson blinks a couple times, his face changing rapidly, anger to annoyance to reluctant calm. “Babe,” he echos. And he settles down, after that. 

Of course Lydia knows how to stop his meltdowns. Allison’s grateful anyways. 

When all the non-parental adults are gone, things loosen up. Everybody helps out with the clean up, putting things away and filling trash bags. Allison overhears Mason attempting to hit on Jackson, while Jackson folds up chairs. Jackson turns him down remarkably nicely, for Jackson, and then finishes by saying something about how Mason is “like fucking twelve, anyways”, a statement that leads to Derek giving Stiles a pointed look that Stiles ignores. 

Allison tells the guys about it, when everyone else is gone and it’s just her, Scott, Isaac, and Jackson drinking in the living room. She’s nestled in the couch cushions between her boys, and Jackson’s in a chair across from them. Jackson always has perfect posture. He does even now, tipsy. 

“Good,” Scott says. “It is weird.” 

“It’s not weird,” Allison sighs. “Or it’s… less weird.” 

“Than what?” Isaac asks sleepily. 

“Than anyone else our age and somebody Derek’s age,” Allison says, but that sounds lame even to her own ears. “I dunno.” 

“It’d be less weird in a couple years,” Jackson says, and everyone else seems to agree with him. 

So Allison gives it up, out-numbered. “Whatever,” she says, and then thinks of one extra thing to say. “It’s just. The last person who wants to be weird with all this is Derek, considering he went through his own shit in high school.” 

Scott and Jackson frown at her, but Isaac seems to have some idea of what she’s talking about. “Kate?” he asks, and she nods. “I’d wondered.” 

“Wondered what?” Jackson presses.

“Exactly what kind of relationship they had, before his parents’ house burned down,” Isaac says. 

That’s enough for Jackson to get it; he raises his eyebrows and lets out an awkward kind of laugh. “Jesus,” he says. “Dark. Okay. Let’s talk about anything else instead.”

“Sure,” Isaac says pleasantly. “Like your-”

Jackson groans. “Whatever you’re about to say I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Convenient, just deciding when you want to hear things.” Isaac’s holding one of Allison’s hands, his fingers loose around hers. His tells aren’t big, they’re microscopic - the way he looks at his lap instead of at Jackson, the way his lips tighten for a second. Scott’s silent, on Allison’s other side. 

“So you _are_ still mad at me,” Jackson says, with a sense of having known this all along. 

“Mad at you,” Isaac repeats, his voice distant. “No, that’s not it.” And then he doesn’t say anything else. 

When Jackson talks again, it’s a subject change. He wants to talk about the French cousins, and Isaac doesn’t protest.

Later that night Allison nudges Isaac, while they’re brushing their teeth. “You want to talk about it?” she asks.

“Not particularly,” he says. 

So that’s about it. No input from Scott - he doesn’t say anything about Derek at any point that night. No response to what they spoke about. Allison figures he doesn’t care, and she can’t blame him. Derek might’ve saved his life a couple times, but he also ruined it a bunch of others. That makes sense. What makes a lot less sense is how he doesn’t seem eager to get involved with Jackson and Isaac. 

Whatever, he has a lot on his mind. College in a month or so, and all that entails. Allison’s living at home and headed to the state school nearby. Isaac is probably going to do the same. Scott’s going further away, to a better vet school. He has to pack and get his books and get ready to move in. Their relationship takes a backseat for a while - everything does. 

In the fall, Allison makes college friends, casual ones. People she sees every day and has inside jokes with and texts about homework. People, she also has to note, who have never seen her kill someone. It’s easy. 

Isaac’s not in any of her classes, but they drive to class together and it’s pretty common knowledge that he’s her boyfriend. And then they’re home together too, making food or doing homework or going on runs. Allison’s first love was and will always be Scott, and for that reason it’s especially nice to have some time with just Isaac. Scott is like a wonder of the world - when he’s around, he’s the only thing either of them can look at most of the time. They tend to let themselves fade into the background. But now they’re each others’ first priorities. 

They end up talking about everything. They spend all this time together, after all, and every they get tired of silence eventually. Allison finds herself saying things she’s never said to anyone else. Things about her mom, and her dad, and Scott and even Derek. Isaac is more than happy to talk about Derek. They have the same curious mix of sympathy and pain around him, the feeling of having been hurt by him so badly that they _have_ to care about him to even keep thinking about him. 

The only thing that stays off-limits is Isaac’s dad. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but that’s an understatement - he categorically refuses. 

It’s one of those weird nights on winter break before Christmas, when Allison doesn’t have much to do, for once. She’s in basement, sorting through a box of her old weapons that Dad wants her to pare down. There are three of these to get through. It’s an all-night kind of thing, because Isaac is out with Erica doing something. 

Someone sets foot on the basement steps, and Allison looks up. “Hey,” she says when she sees a combat boot. “Are you keeping what I want? Or are you getting rid of it totally? Because that changes the-” 

It’s not Dad. It’s Derek. “Hi,” he says. 

“Oh.” 

“Sorry. Do you need to talk to him?” 

“No, I’m okay. I’ll ask him later.” Allison looks back down; she’s expecting Derek to be looking for something, on some kind of mission of his own. He comes closer and she looks up, anticipating needing to move so he could get to the bins she’s in front of. 

Derek just leans against the table in the middle of the room and looks at her. “How are your classes?” he asks.

Allison blinks several times. “Excuse me?” 

Very calmly, Derek regards her with a little bit of a smirk. “How are they?” he repeats, his tone sincere and mocking her too.

“Well, over,” she says. “So.” 

“How were finals, then?” 

“What are you doing?” Allison asks, refusing to be sucked in. 

Derek thinks this is a stupid question. “I’m being friendly.” 

“Yeah. Why? Are we friends?” To her, the answer is clearly no. 

But Derek’s face tells another story - he looks actually taken aback for a second, and then he narrows his eyes at her. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No,” she says. “No more than usual.” 

Derek folds his hands, with a sense of actively maintaining his composure. Allison could never predict what he says next. “Y’know, I _actually_ can’t tell if you hate me,” he finally tells her. “Half the time it seems like you do, but then the other half of the time, we’re cool.”

Allison is mostly cool with him, until she remembers her reasons not to be. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s about it.” 

“So is that just how it’s going to be?” 

Allison frowns at him. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Is it supposed to be any other way? Have you forgotten how many of our family members killed each other?” 

“No,” Derek says with irritation brimming. The unusual thing is how quickly it fades, how he persists calmly. “But. I think we can’t forget everything else, too.” 

That’s vague. “Like what?” 

He makes a face at her, one that says _really?_ In the same voice that Stiles would say it in, too. “Like the time I saved your life, maybe?” he says. “Or the dozen times you saved mine.” 

It’s brave of him, she thinks. And then she asks herself, if they’re cool half the time, how is she anything less than a whole hypocrite? So maybe the very least she owes him is a complete memory. “Okay,” she says. “Sure. I haven’t forgot.” The scars on her stomach are still thick. 

“So what’s the problem, then?” 

“Not something you can fix.”

“Allison. Just tell me.” 

Okay fine, she will just tell him. “It’s mostly how you kept breaking people’s bones, if you really want to know. People in your pack.” 

Derek’s eyes narrow slightly, and then he sets his jaw. “Okay. Yes. Good point. I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize to me, I’m not the one who-” 

“You want me to track down Isaac and Boyd and Erica and apologize to _them_?” Derek demands. 

This is going off the rails. She thinks he might actually do it. Allison looks back down at her weapons. “No,” she says. “Obviously. But it’s hard to forget.” 

“And yet, you do.” 

And yet, she does. It makes her even madder, when she catches herself not hating him. Something in her lizard brain tells her he’s family, and she hates it. “I can’t just forgive you,” she says. “Even though I saw you chained up, with… Kate, and.” Her mouth is dry. 

“Can’t forgive yourself either, huh,” Derek says quietly. 

Heat pricks at her eyes. She can’t look at him. “Shut up.”

“I’m fine, y’know,” he says, his tone warm. “And I don’t… blame you, or anything. You were a teenager.” 

“I was old enough to know better,” she says. It comes out harsh. She didn’t realize before, that she feels this way. Now it feels suffocating. She looks at him and sees too much, so she keeps her eyes on the knives. 

There’s a moment of silence. “If you tried to intervene, she would’ve killed you,” he says quietly. “Kate was… an all or nothing type of person. So. It was probably wise of you, to-” 

“Don’t be stupid, I wasn’t making a decision.” 

“Okay,” he says. “But now you are.” 

Allison looks up at him with tears in her eyes, hating that he definitely notices and probably has even more information from his other senses. “Since when do you want to talk about this stuff anyways?” she says, and sniffs deeply, trying to pass it off as something normal. 

“Therapy,” he says. “And also Chris is worried.” 

“About me?” 

“About us not being able to get along.”

Derek is a guy who cares about her dad’s opinions. He’s at her house kind of a lot, and he wants her to not hate him, and he tried to apologize. “Are you actually sorry?” she asks then. “About how you… I mean, Isaac’s still messed up. From the stuff you did. Kicking him out.” 

His expressions hardens a little, she can see the effort involved in his response. “Kali was trying to force me to kill them,” he says. “My pack. So. I had to make him leave. If I told him, he would’ve stayed to help me, he was too loyal.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay.” 

“No,” he says. “But. That’s how it was.” 

“You’d still do it today,” she says, fidgeting with the handle of a knife she’ll keep. One of the first. She remembers when Mom handed it to her. 

“Maybe,” he says. “Yeah. To save his life.” 

That is math she couldn’t make work. But she didn’t lose eight people, her whole family and pack. She doesn’t have that kind of experience making decisions for her. “Okay,” she says. “Well. I wouldn’t.” 

“That’s why I’m letting you guys take charge.”

And, oh. Okay. That sinks in now, as a choice. He’s been taking a purposeful backseat. Isn’t that better than an apology, anyways? Direct action, to keep himself from fucking up again? All of a sudden, Allison can’t remember what grudge she’s holding, why. 

“I don’t know,” Allison says. “Part of me feels like we should stay out of each others’ way.”

The best thing about Derek is how he never overreacts. “And the other part?” he asks. 

“Feels like we’re sort of all we’ve got left,” she says before she can overthink it. And then she begins to sort again, purposefully moving things she doesn’t have to move in the hopes that he’ll take the hint that the conversation is over. Or she wants it to be over. 

Derek doesn’t leave, though. He stays. And after a second, he asks again. “How were finals?” And this time she tells him. He stays downstairs with her the whole time she sorts through the boxes, talking. 

She brings it up with Isaac a few nights later, while they’re lying in his bed on their phones. They curled up in warm pajamas and blankets. 

“So you feel better?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I think so. Mostly. I don’t know.” 

Isaac looks over at her. “Okay,” he says with half a smile, waiting for the rest of what she has to say. 

“Well! How do you feel about it? It’s just… Derek’s a big part of your life too, and I’m trying to not hold grudges you’ve never asked me to hold, but the moment you ask, you know I’d-” 

“I know,” Isaac says. “No, I know.” 

She waits for him to say something else, and when he doesn’t she says, “And since you don’t really want to talk about how you feel…” 

Isaac sighs deeply and throws his phone towards the foot of the bed. “Okay,” he says, and flops over to put his head in her lap. 

“Okay?” Allison asks after a second. 

“Okay, I’ll talk about how I feel,” he says. “God.” 

She puts her hand on his shoulder and moves her phone to look at him. “Are mad if I’m cool with him?” she asks after a long silence. Maybe he needs a prompt.

“No,” he says. “I’m okay with him, I’m… I don’t. I don’t know. He’s too fucked up for me to be mad at him, it was just a few months anyways.” 

“Oh.” She tries not to connect too many dots before she’s supposed to. 

Isaac is silent, the sensation of him arguing with himself in his head tangible. “Yeah,” he finally says. “I try to reserve all my anger for bigger…”

“Jackson?” she asks. 

“No, he’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Like for real?” 

Isaac nods, slips a hand under her leg and holds on near her knee. “For real, for sure, not just because he’s basically your brother,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Like, even if he’d said something, it wouldn’t have helped. I thought about it, like. A lot.” 

Of course he has; Allison feels dumb for not realizing that. She rubs his shoulder and doesn’t say anything, waits to see what else he says. 

“And I’m not even that upset about him killing him,” Isaac sighs. “So. Figure that one out.” 

“It seems like it might make some sense,” Allison ventures. 

“Right.” He hates this, it’s all over his voice. 

“I’m sorry,” Allison says. “Is that too much? I don’t want to guess about this, if it’s-”

“No,” he says over her, nervously brusque. “No, you can guess. You’re like, the person that gets it the most, probably. And that’s good, kinda. Or. It’s like…”

“Hey,” she says. “I’m just… I’m here for you.” 

“I know.” After a second, he sits up, pulling his knees under himself, and kneels right next to her and looks at her. “Derek cares, and he tries. In his robot kind of way. And Jackson too, he really does. I get that. But there wasn’t… for the last couple years, I was living with someone who I knew didn’t give a shit about me, so. I really don’t care about like, Jackson being kind of a dick. So.” 

Allison takes a second to process. This is more information than she’s gotten from him at once, ever. “No kidding,” she finally says. “That makes sense.” 

“And it’s not that I don’t think I can tell you,” he continues, with the sense of getting this over with. “I know I can, but. It’s always going to feel… dangerous. To say new things, or. Change anything.” 

“Oh,” she says. The air suddenly feels different, and she has the conscious thought that this is it, one of those moments between them that _will_ change things. This is a conversation she’s going to remember for years. 

Isaac nods. “Like, I always hold my breath passing doorways,” he says, and sits back a little bit. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. He’d be waiting somewhere, to…” Isaac hesitates, he scratches his forehead. “Catch me doing something wrong, I guess? So.”

So that’s why he moves so quietly, like that’s actually why. Allison almost doesn’t know what to do with the facts, she’s been guessing for so long. “Okay,” she says. She won’t threaten to kill his dad. That won’t help.

He’s watching her face closely. “Is this okay?” he asks. “Telling you this, is it… I dunno, is it weird?” 

“Nope,” she says. “Feels very normal to me.” 

Isaac smiles at her; he knows what she’s doing, and he’s letting it work. “Good,” he says. “Then it’s normal.” He snuggles back in under the blankets then, making a big fuss about it, only now Allison knows what that means to him. He nestles in next to her, tucks himself against her side, and then says, “You could tell Scott about this, if you want to.”

“You don’t want to?” 

“I barely want to tell anyone,” he says. “So. I mean I don’t think that he needs to know, necessarily. He doesn’t really get caught up in the specifics. But, if he asks, y’know. Just. No secrets.” 

Allison holds him closer, pressing her cheek against his hair. “None,” she agrees. “We’re really growing.” 

“Love that,” he yawns, and falls asleep holding onto her. 

Stiles, Kira, and Lydia are in Chicago for college, the furthest of any of them now that Jackson’s back, but at least they’re all together. When they come back for holidays, the girls tease him for a series of relationships that never last longer than a few weeks. Stiles bickers back, throwing looks at Derek when he’s sure no one else is looking. 

Sophomore year, for spring break, Stiles brings back Malia. Malia walks into Allison’s house, visibly searches for Derek and makes eye contact with him, and then puts her hands in her pockets. “Bad news,” Malia says. Her voice is deep and brisk. “Stiles has broken my heart.” 

Stiles, who’s following her into the kitchen, looks at everyone in turn - Allison, Derek, and Dad. “Oh no,” he says faintly. It looks like he’s registering how this isn’t working. 

“Yes. He was a wonderful boyfriend. And my heart. It’s broken and now I may never recover.” Malia, perhaps in an effort to keep from focusing on Derek, looks at Allison.

Allison raises her eyebrows with a smile. “I see,” she says. 

Behind Malia, Stiles covers his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well,” he says. “You don’t have to…” 

“What?” Malia demands. 

“That was awful!” Stiles can’t stop himself from saying.

“I said exactly what you said to say.” 

Derek can’t keep himself from smiling then, and Dad snorts a little, and Stiles knows his game is up. 

“It would’ve been great if she was capable of lying,” he says later that night, when he and Allison are on the couch together. He says that out of nowhere, in the middle of a video he forced her to watch with him on his phone, but Allison doesn’t mind. Truth be told she’s missed this about him, the way his mind always has like six layers of thinking happening. 

"It would've," she agrees. "A very smart ruse otherwise. Derek is definitely someone who would fall for something like that." 

Stiles shoots her an annoyed look she can feel. "I'm sensing a bit of sarcasm." 

"What, you thought Malia would talk about how amazing you are and that would be the thing that convinces him?" she asks, pretending to take that seriously. Of course, he sees right through it and sighs deeply enough her hair blows into her face a bit. "You can't parent trap your way into a relationship," she adds. 

"I know," Stiles says. "It's almost more of a running joke at this point." 

"It doesn't have to be." 

"Well, why else would he talk to me?" He wants that to sound sarcastic, but it comes out sad.

With great effort, Allison wiggles around to look at him full in the face. "Stiles," she says. 

"I'm kidding." 

"You're not kidding." 

"No, but I don't want to talk about it, so I said I'm kidding and I want you to leave it alone," he says. "Have a little common decency." 

Allison settles back in to how she was sitting, and Stiles holds up his phone again. He moves the video back like thirty seconds or so. "What show is this again?" she asks. He's closer now, his temple resting against hers, his shoulder on top of hers. 

"Oh my god. You sound like you're fifty years old. What show. It's a webseries, first of all, and second of all, you mean channel." 

"Okay so what channel is it?" 

"Did you grow up without the internet somehow? Are you secretly like thirty years old? It's Funny or Die, this isn't a deep cut." 

"Sorry, not a lot of time for the internet when you're being trained to-" 

He cuts her off with another incredibly deep sigh. "Yeah yeah, trained to be the most deadly girl the world has ever-" She whacks his arm and he corrects himself without missing a beat. "Most deadly _person_ the world has ever seen, God, your ego." 

"Pot and kettle, buddy."

Her arm gets numb after a bit, sitting here, so she shifts and stretches, slips her tingly arm behind him and over his shoulder, and Stiles lets them be closer together without comment. He's more still than he was in high school, he doesn't fidget. And when the video is over, he finds another one. "You need an education," he says by way of explanation, and she doesn't protest. Stiles loves by demanding of the person, after all, and Allison misses him so much that she'll give him anything. 

Derek comes into the living room when they're on video six, and looks at them for a second. “What,” Stiles says. “Uncomfortable with any displays of-” Abruptly, Derek turns on his heel and leaves. “Jesus,” Stiles says crossly, but Allison saw something on Derek’s face for just a second that makes her actually worried. 

“Stay here,” she says, with little hope that he’ll actually listen, and follows Derek.

She hears the back door open and close, so she follows him out. He’s pacing out over the back yard, breathing hard. His back is to her, but she can see his hands are covering his face. “Derek?” she asks. 

“Stay away from me,” he snaps. 

“No.” 

“Allison,” he turns, and gives her a desperate sort of serious look. “I know when I don’t have good control, and I’m telling you stay back.” 

Allison stays on the edge of the patio while he paces in the grass. “What’s wrong?” she asks, because Derek isn’t shaken by Stiles talking shit.

“I…” He comes to a stop facing her, still panting, and clenches his hands into fists for a second. His eyes flash blue, briefly, and something about him feels different. She’s known for a while that his presence feels different than the rest of the wolves, but this is when it feels the most the same. Like Liam on his first moon except nothing about Derek is transforming. He has control. He inhales quickly, exhales with a quiver in his breath. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Allison says, “but maybe this is anxiety. Isaac says those feel sort of the same.” 

Derek shuts his eyes, focuses on something and doesn’t answer. 

“Name five things you see,” Allison says, and Derek glares at her. She takes a step closer. “Even just in your head. Five things.” She watches his eyes flick around. “Four things you hear,” she says, and the silence between them radiates out over the yard. She counts with him. Birds, leaves, a sprinkler, a car. It’s cold out, and she’s in her bare feet. 

“You’re twenty,” he says. He was here for her birthday. 

“Yeah.” 

“And you’re still so young.” 

That’s sort of offensive, but she’s cutting him some slack. “What do you mean?” Allison asks. 

Derek does a lot of things with his jaw, looks at everything but her and then nothing but her. The moment he decides he’s telling her is like flipping a switch. “You’re twenty. So how young was fifteen? Right?” 

Allison heart sinks like a rock; the impact of it hitting her gut gives her chills. “Yeah,” she says. “Exactly.” 

“That’s what you were trying to tell me,” he says. “The first time we talked about it.” She just nods, and waits to hear more of what he’s saying. He’s still trembling, and now he seems unsteady on his feet. “I’m such an idiot,” he says next. 

“No, no, you’re not.” 

“Yes I am, why didn’t I see it?” 

“Because Kate was a really good liar. And you were a kid, and then you lived in the woods for a while.” 

Derek nods, his eyes distant, and then he looks at her sharply. “You realize this just gives me more of a reason to be glad your aunt is dead,” he says, as if that’s something she might not have thought of. 

“Y _ou_ realize that it’s not her I care about, right?” 

Allison knows Derek now. He’s been around for every family holiday since her senior year, and more than once a week outside of that. Saying that they’re friendly feels too flippant, because every single warm conversation they have is one they had to fight for. She knew how he fought before anything else about him, but now she knows what it looks like when he’s about to cry. 

So she punches him in the shoulder, and while he’s recovering from that, she asks, “What did you actually do for the six years between the house burning down and Scott? Did you really live in the woods?” 

“No,” he says, and clears his throat. “I lived in my loft.” 

Jesus. No wonder it hasn’t been decorated. It’s a teen boy’s depression lair. “Have you thought about living somewhere else, now?” she asks. 

“I’m thinking about it now,” he says, in injured and aggrieved tones. “What, are you trying to distract me?”

“Kind of,” Allison says. “Is it working?” 

Derek finds that funny on accident. “No,” he says with half a smile. “You said what you said.” 

She meant it, that’s the worst part. Or no, obviously not the worst part but it’s pretty bad. “Well, Kate’s dead and also a murderer, so. The competition isn’t exactly steep,” she says. 

“Shut up,” Derek says, and then, gingerly pats the top of her head. 

“Stop it,” she frowns. 

“You’ll have to make me.” 

She doesn’t carry a knife anymore, not at home. But that doesn’t mean she’s helpless. It’s simple to twist his arm and flip him onto his back in the grass. And once he’s there, she holds onto his arm a few seconds longer. She has a sneaking suspicion this is Derek’s version of asking for a hug.

“If you talked to Stiles normally, I think he’d stop trying to get your attention in crazy ways,” Allison says, before helping him back up. He’s warm, like the other boys, that too-powerful strength just under his skin.

“Didn’t ask for your advice,” he says. But when they head back inside and find Stiles lurking by the backdoor, playing very casual, Derek takes her direction. “So who is Malia actually?” he asks Stiles. 

“My girlfriend. For like two weeks, a couple months ago. And now she’s like best friends with Lydia and Kira, so. I’m doing something right, even if I can’t stick the landing.” Stiles is talking without listening to himself; he looks between Derek and Allison with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“All good,” Allison says. 

Derek pushes her, making her stumble. “Great,” he agrees with a genial smile. It takes a second, for Allison to realize what this reminds her of. Like Scott with Liam. A big brother. “What are you making Allison sit through?” Derek asks, and Stiles’ educational video playlist ends up on the TV while he talks all the way through it. 

Before Stiles leaves but after Derek does, Stiles brings it up. “So… Derek.” 

“Yes?” she says after a second. 

“How is he? Is he okay? What’s going on?” Stiles is putting his shoes on, struggling with the laces and not looking at her for the moment. 

“He’s okay,” Allison agrees. “He’s fine, yeah.” 

Stiles nods. “Fine people tend to have nervous breakdowns in your back yard until you talk them down. Silly me.” 

Allison tilts her head at him, finding it hard to be anything but fond of him. He still thinks it’s a secret, how much he cares. He does this whole thing where he pretends nothing’s that big of a deal. He’s just faster at getting to the other side of that now. It’s only a few seconds before he looks up at her and says, “Seriously. I’ve just never seen him do something like that.”

“He’s trying really hard to change,” she says. 

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. He’s a lot less gruff and snappish on the phone. And sometimes he even returns a text.” Stiles moves to with the second shoe. “Are you two friends? Or something?” 

“I think so. Something.” When Stiles finally stands, he looks her in the eyes with that curious sincerity she only gets from him in seconds. He doesn’t even have to say anything; she answers. “He’s really okay. We’re just… we both have some stuff to work through. And we’re kind of doing parts of it, like. Talking to each other.” 

“Okay… like? Like most of your family killing most of his type stuff?” 

Allison nods. “A lot like that,” she says. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Uh, yeah. Duh.” 

“Why are you still hung up on him? Is it a joke?”

Stiles screws up his nose. “No,” he says. “Not a joke. It’s. I just. There’s something,” he finally says, after struggling for words. “Something between us, like I’d say a spark if I was a dumb romantic, but it’s… still a lot like that. I don’t know. I just… I’ve never met anyone I have that with, I guess? Lydia, maybe, but. Is this you telling me to drop it?” 

“No,” she says. “I think you’re right, but maybe just… focus on being his friend. For a little bit.” 

“That makes… obnoxious sense. And, you’re in not one but two functioning relationships so I really should be listening to you, huh.”

“Maybe a little.”

He nods, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “Okay. Thanks. I’m gonna go before I say something and ruin the nice, mature conversation we just had, so. I’ll see you later.” 

Considering that, like Stiles said, most of her relatives are dead, it’s remarkable how large Allison’s family feels these days. 

Scott is really loving college. Allison would be more worried if things felt weird when he came back, but Scott’s exactly who he always is when she sees him again. Exactly as in love with her and Isaac as ever, just looking progressively more well rested as his classes get harder. 

“He’s killing it,” Jackson tells her the summer before senior year. Though, because it’s Jackson, he makes it an insult. “I honestly don’t know how, he wasn’t exactly a genius in high school.” 

“He was kind of saving everyone’s life most of the time, actually, so that was probably part of it,” Allison says. 

Jackson sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Good point.” 

Allison stares at him, while Jackson pretends not to notice. “Excuse me?” she demands after a second. “Who are you and what have you done with Jackson?” 

“Stop,” he rolls his eyes. 

“What, are you guys like actually friends now?” Allison asks. 

“Everyone’s Scott’s friend,” Jackson says, which isn’t a no. 

“Okay…” Allison narrows her eyes at him. “Including you?” 

Jackson scoffs at that, but the answer is yes. When Scott’s around later, Allison is very careful to watch without appearing to. Actually using her surveillance training for once, keeping an eye on both of them over the course of an afternoon. And she discovers, surprisingly, that with Scott, Jackson’s actually something what she’d call nice. In a way that’s somehow totally natural, Jackson’s warm with Scott. Warmer in general, to everyone not Scott - which, in this case, is Isaac and Dad. He rolls his eyes whenever anyone talks to him, as usual, but he doesn’t just do that. 

It’s small. At one point, he gets up to get himself a drink and Scott asks for water too, and Jackson sighs but he comes back with two glasses of water. He lets himself laugh at Isaac’s snarky comments, and he doesn’t say anything borderline offensive and he puts his head down on her shoulder when they’re watching a movie without needing to be forced into it. 

She’ll ruin it if she talks about it, so she doesn’t say anything. But she notices, over the following weeks, how this new behavior is normal for them. Scott isn’t afraid of him - not that he ever was, but he tells Jackson what to do sometimes and he teases him the same way he teases Stiles. Like a puppy that loves goading a cat into getting its claws out. Like friends. And three years hasn’t changed how much she loves Scott but this makes her think about how much it can change. 

“Oh yeah,” Scott says when she broaches the topic. “That took a while.”

“Took a while!” Allison says in disbelief, and Isaac smirks. The three of them are having a date night, cooking together at Scott’s house. And Allison’s being unhelpful, actually, she’s leaning against the stove ostensibly keeping an eye on the rolls but mostly watching the boys finish mixing everything with the pasta. 

“Yeah,” Scott says with a bit of a smile. “Jackson’s not exactly open.” 

“No,” Allison agrees. “But. This was on purpose?” 

Scott shrugs. “I mean, kind of. It didn’t seem to make a ton of sense to keep hanging out otherwise. And he wasn’t going anywhere.”

“So you decided you’d be friends,” Isaac says, stirring the pot one last time and then getting bowls out. 

Scott nods. “Yeah,” he says. “But he did too. He was in my dorm all the time. And then it was his idea to live together.”

Interesting. That hadn’t made it into Jackson’s tellings. “He seems happier,” she says. “I mean. I don’t know. I’ve just… always known him as like…” 

“Repressed?” Scott suggests, and Isaac snorts. 

“Well.” 

“Okay,” Isaac says. “So that’s what you wanted to talk about tonight. What did you want to bring up, Scott?” 

Scott sighs with a smile on his face. “Okay,” he says. “Well. It’s not like we _have_ to talk about this stuff now, but I thought it might be a good time since we’re together and everything.” 

Allison loves him so much. She smiles at him, and catches Isaac giving him the exact same look. “Go on,” she says. “Say it.”

“Okay, well.” Scott takes a short, deep breath. “I just can’t remember if you guys knew that I’m going to be in school for four more years, and I think we have to talk about that.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac says. 

“Well, I still have to go through all of vet school, and that’s four years after I graduate and I just wanted to make sure that you both knew that.” It’s clear from Scott’s tone that this is really something on his mind. “That you’re like. Totally aware of what’s going on here.” 

Allison and Isaac exchange a look. “He wants to make sure we’re aware of what’s going on,” Isaac says.

“He’s very sweet,” Allison says. 

Scott’s grin is big enough to split his face. “Is this you telling me you already know?” he says. “Is that your subtle way of…” 

“Yes,” Allison says. “Let’s set the table.”

When they’re all sitting about to eat, Scott continues, “So but like. Four more years. Or five, including this last year. Is that… that’s a long time, for this. Like, could you… really, can you see that happening?” 

Okay. He’s being serious. “Okay,” she says. “Yeah. That’s… it’s a long time. Where’s vet school?” 

“There’s one like an hour away,” Scott says. “Obviously that’s my first choice. And I think with my grades, I’ll get in. So then we could live together around here. Does that… how does that sound to you?” 

“Good,” Isaac answers, when prompted by a look from both of them. “Yeah that’d be great, if y’know. I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’m doing grad school too, I kind of have to.” Isaac’s ended up in the Argent family business, the research portion. Old books and artifacts, restoring and conserving and assembling knowledge. Preparing. She thinks about what he said about fearing change, and wonders if this career is his way to insulate, focusing on the past instead. 

“Yeah,” Allison says then. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll be taking a few jobs after graduating, so. We’ll be fine.” 

“You been thinking about living anywhere in particular?” Isaac asks Scott. 

“No, let’s talk about it,” Scott says. “I bet we could get a house.”

And then date night turns into that conversation now, where they want to live together and what they want in a house, discussions of how they’ll set up their bedroom and commute times and who’s going to kill bugs. It’s another evolution, one they’re planning on, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Dad’s dipping his toe back in the hunting business a bit at a time. A research project here, some coordination with Deaton and production of supernatural supplies for Deaton. 

Derek ends up sort of helping, if only because he’s around as Dad’s working. Dad teaches him to cast bullets, and teaches him about the hunters factions and alliances. Secrets that Allison knows only a few years ago were such closely guarded, never to be revealed to anyone outside the family let alone to werewolves. And Derek’s good at it. He likes to be directed. 

It’s a Friday night. Isaac’s out, doing something Allison can’t quite remember. She’s on the couch, studying, and Dad and Derek come up from the basement in like, full going-out outfits. Shoes on. Weapons hidden and holstered. Allison can practically feel the excitement, the adrenaline humming under everything they do. 

“Hold on,” Allison says, getting up. “Where are you going?” 

“Making a trade,” Dad says. “Need some backup.” 

“And you’re not bringing me?” 

Dad gives her a look. “You’re studying,” he says. “Or so you said when it was time to do dishes.” 

“I _was_ studying,” she agrees. “And now I’m at a break. And I don’t want you going in without backup.” 

“Wow,” Derek says, aggressively deadpan. 

“Shut up,” Allison says. “You know what I mean.” 

“Are you volunteering?” Derek asks. 

Allison looks at Dad. “More like demanding.” 

“We leave in two minutes,” Dad says, which is his way of giving in. Allison grabs a knife, shoves her feet into shoes, and makes it out into the car with a few seconds to spare. 

They head to some building downtown, mostly empty. “You have knives?” Allison says in an undertone to Derek, as they walk in. She’s noticed holsters, under his jacket and on his ankle. 

“Yep,” Derek says.

She sticks close to him because she only has the one. And also because it’s just sinking in now, that he’s a werewolf joining her dad for a deal with hunters. Oh no. Why is he here? Allison is suddenly furious with her Dad for bringing him, and she thinks of that dream she had all those years ago that still haunts her. She thinks of real life, too, of Derek chained up and not letting himself scream. 

Derek glances over at her, as the other group approaches. “Keep it together,” he says, which is, for him, an expression of concern. 

“I’m fine,” she says, because the conversation is longer than they have time for, right now. 

She manages to figure out what’s going on here through context clues. Dad’s renewing some sort of deal, to keep these hunters out of Beacon Hills - or he’s trying to. It starts not great. The other hunters are spooked by Derek’s presence. They know there’s an Argent daughter, but that means knowing there isn’t a son. And Dad reassures them, but it’s not a great way to start. And then it turns out they have proof of the pack from Beacon Hills. They know the alpha pack disappeared around here, they have a whole theory about a super-pack of some kind. 

Allison knows the smart play, here. It’s to agree and then leave and figure out how to handle it. But somehow, Dad fumbles that. Or maybe the real problem is that he knows these guys, and they know him. And they know he’s lying. 

It devolves into a standoff pretty quick. “You don’t have to do this,” Dad says. “We’re all on the same side here.” 

“I don’t think we are, Argent,” one of the hunters says, and shoots Derek in the shoulder with a look of calculated interest. Derek’s breath is punched out of him; he falls to his knees, but when he looks up his eyes are still human. His control holds. And Dad doesn’t do anything. He’s pointing a gun at the other hunters and he doesn’t shoot. 

Allison sees red; she moves in a fraction of a second, draws the knife from under Derek’s jacket and the one from her leg and takes a step forward. “Try that again,” she says. “Shoot another Argent and see how that goes for you.” 

“Can’t be too careful,” the guy says, and holsters his weapon to hold his hands up innocently. “Just giving you a heads up. We’ll be in the area.” 

“Without our support,” Dad says. He waits until they’re gone to holster his weapon again. 

Allison doesn’t wait to kneel down next to Derek. “Hey,” she says. “Is it still in you?” 

“Went through,” Derek says, with a single shake of his head. He’s holding his breath. “No wolfsbane.” 

“Breathe,” she says. She puts a hand on his shoulder tentatively, and he doesn’t shake her off. He tries to listen, chest heaving with the effort. 

“We need to get out of here,” Dad says, and just being reminded of his presence is enough to set Allison’s heart ablaze again. She shuts up, though, she gets Derek to his feet and watches him struggle to walk normally. His shirt is stained with blood halfway down the front, his hands are in fists, and his eyes keep going blue. 

They’re almost at the car, and she can’t hold her anger back any longer. She takes a second to make words out of what she feels. “I can’t believe you,” she says to Dad. 

Dad’s surprised. “What?” 

“I can’t believe you!” she repeats, too mad to think of something new to say for a second. “Why did you think this was a good idea?” 

“What?” Dad says again, genuinely baffled. 

“Bringing him! Why was that the plan?” 

“The plan was that I needed backup, and I can’t read your mind about when you’re free,” Dad says pointedly. 

Allison’s throat closes for a second, and in the silence Derek speaks up. “I’m already healing,” he says to her. She can feel his eyes on her face, can see their blue glow in her peripherals. “I’m okay, it’s fine.” His tone is soothing, he’s trying to talk her out of this. 

She can’t look at him. “It’s not about that,” she says, still looking to Dad. “They would’ve killed him. If he lost control in front of them, that would’ve been it. Did you even think about that?” 

“I knew he wouldn’t.” 

“It’s not enough to know that!” she yells, and the next breath in feels like the first one she’s taken in years. “Just because you know someone can do something doesn’t mean you should ask them to do it.” 

“Ally, you’re not making any sense,” Dad says, and she can hear he isn’t taking her seriously. It’s making her so upset she could cry. 

Allison looks at Derek, who’s watching both of them quietly, and then back at her Dad. He’s killed werewolves before. He’s lost hunters, too. And none of that probably seems weird to him at all. “Dad,” she says. “I’m just gonna say it. People aren’t weapons. I know your dad treated you like one, that’s like the whole family thing, but. He’s dead because of that, so we have to be better.” 

Dad’s face changes in some small way, a deadening. He nods once, and gets in the driver’s seat. Derek gets in the back, and before Allison goes for the passenger side door she leans in and looks at Derek and says, “You know you don’t have to say yes to everything he asks you.”

“I know,” Derek says, but he doesn’t. 

It’s a silent drive home. 

Allison opens the back door when they’re parked, looks in at Derek who’s flat on his back. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s make sure there’s no lasting damage.” 

Derek lets her boss him around a little bit, lets her help with his jacket and shirt and clean the bullet holes. He stops her then, wrapping his hand around her wrist to keep her in place. And then he looks her in the eye. She’s sort of frozen there. “Ally,” he says, and just that is so tender, for him. 

“Will you take painkillers if I get them?” she asks, and he nods. But he’s still holding her, almost holding her hand, so she doesn’t move. So she looks at him, right at him. He can feel her pulse speeding up, she’s sure of it.

“You,” he begins, and pauses. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” she says. “That won’t happen again.” 

It’s only later, when they’re eating, side by side at the counter, that she realizes she made him a promise that she meant whole-heartedly. Another thing that would’ve been beyond consideration before. She nudges him with her shoulder. “Ow,” Derek says flatly. 

“So how is Stiles?” 

“Text him and ask.” 

“I’m asking you.” 

“Iron curtain,” Derek says and gives her a smirk. 

When Stiles makes it back from his internship a few weeks later, it’s with another person in tow. He brings him to Allison’s first again, even though Derek isn’t there. “This is Theo,” Stiles says, presenting him with visible nerves. 

“Okay,” Allison says slowly. “Your boyfriend?” 

“Ex,” Stiles says, and Theo tenses. “Ex-boyfriend.” 

“Okay… you know Derek’s not here, right?” 

Stiles sighs. “Don’t, this isn’t a whole jealousy thing again. I’ve learned, okay. I rarely make the same mistake twice, that’s my whole dating philosophy.” 

“Explains a lot,” Theo says to him, and smiles when Stiles shushes him. 

“This isn’t about Derek,” Stiles continues louder. 

“So what’s it about?” Allison asks, to help. 

He’s not going to say what he really means, she can see it in his eyes. “It’s about you getting to know my college friends,” he says. “Can we do that? Just give him a chance, he’s not a liar most of the time.” 

“Oh my god,” Theo sighs, leaning back against the counter. “Please let that go. It wasn’t a lie, it was a _joke_.”

“Well,” Stiles says patiently, “it’s not a joke if you give no indication it was a joke. Then it’s just a lie you think is funny.” 

“It _was_ pretty funny,” Theo tells him, and seems to delight in Stiles’ frustration. “And I never thought you’d believe me. Who just tells people their sister is dead in the middle of conversation and moves on?” 

“Derek,” Allison says sympathetically. 

Theo meets her eyes. “That’s what Stiles said,” he says, with a sense of dawning realization. “Is Derek really like that?” 

“He’s… yeah,” Allison answers. 

“And she’s his friend,” Stiles adds pointedly. “And she’s saying that. So.” 

“Well,” Allison makes a face. 

Stiles glares at her. “Stop,” he says. “You’re his friend. Don’t be weird about it, okay. It’s a fact, at this point. You should see how he talks about you, by the way. And you’re trying to say you’re not friends? Offensive. I won’t tell him you said that, he’d be really hurt.” 

“Shut up,” Allison tells him. “I guarantee me and Derek talk more than you and him do.” 

“Wow. Are your boyfriends jealous?” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

Theo watches this, the back and forth, a little smile growing on his face. “So Derek,” he says to Allison. “Who is he?” 

“He’s…” 

“Oh,” Stiles says suddenly. “You can tell her. She already knows.” 

“Tell me what?” Allison starts to ask, but then Theo’s eyes go gold all of a sudden, bright and purposeful. “Oh,” she says then. 

Stiles wrinkles up his nose. “Yeah,” he says. “And he doesn’t have a pack.” 

“So take him to Scott.” 

“I’m _gonna_ , I just wanted you to meet him first.” 

“Derek,” Allison says to Theo, who smiles at her, “is a wolf in our pack. And he’s close with my dad, so he’s over here all the time.” 

Theo raises his eyebrows. “How old is he?” 

“Twenty… nine?” Allison looks at Stiles for confirmation. 

To her surprise, Theo lets out the most frustrated sigh and glared at Stiles. “Please,” he said. “He’s not even thirty? You made such a big deal about him being older, I thought it was like. Middle aged.” 

“He acts like it,” Allison interjects. 

“Six years isn’t nothing,” Stiles says defensively. 

Theo does not agree. “I’ve dated a dude who was fifty,” he said definitively. “I’m pretty sure you’d be fine.” 

Stiles flushes, he glares down at his hands. “Whatever,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about Derek, okay, I want-” 

The front door opens, and Allison knows by the sound of the steps who’s here. She’s smiling at them already, so hard her face might crack. “Hey, babe,” Lydia says as she enters the room and comes directly to give Allison a hug. She’s got some muscle on her now, squeezes tight. “Okay, so tell me everything,” Lydia says in her ear. 

“You first, how’s Kira?” Allison asks, and then has to pick Lydia’s hair out of her mouth as they separate. 

“She’s great, she’s visiting her family. And I see you’ve met our fourth musketeer,” Lydia says, with a tight little fake smile at Theo that isn’t rude as much as it’s familiar. This isn’t someone Lydia feels obligated to be polite to, she knows him. That tells Allison more than anything he’s said. 

“Yes,” Allison says, “we’ve met. But I still don’t really know why he’s here. Stiles keeps getting derailed.” Which makes Stiles very upset but in a fun way where he gets to gesticulate a bunch as everyone watches. Theo, the closest, dodges Stiles’ reach with practiced ease. And Allison thinks about what Stiles had confided in her, his comment about a spark, and she can see how Theo made sense in that light. 

“What about you?” Lydia eventually gets around to asking. “How are the boys?” 

“Doing good. Isaac and Erica have gotten really into like, BMX shit? So they’re having fun with that. Scott likes it too, when he’s free.” 

Lydia nods, looking close at her. “Well. Good. We’re going to be here the rest of the summer and I want you to myself. Where’s the former love of my life?” 

“He’s grocery shopping with Dad.” 

“Oh, because of his stupid brand loyalty?” 

Allison sighs. “Yes.” She explains, to Theo and Stiles. “Jackson has some very specific preferences. His body is a temple.” 

“It really is,” Stiles says morosely. “He’s probably still got a six pack, too.” Allison confirms with a nod, and Stiles sighs deeply. 

“Is he single?” Theo asks innocently, a smirk growing on his face as that comment’s received well. 

Lydia hums a little. “I don’t know,” she says, fake thoughtful. “That’s a lot of emotional inaccessibility in one relationship.” She gave Theo a slightly poisonous smile then, and Theo smiles back. 

“Is that why the two of you didn’t work out?” he asks, his tone pointed. 

“Yeah,” Lydia says after a second, with a pleased little smile. “Totally wasn’t the mutual homosexuality.”

“Knew that was an excuse,” Theo agrees. 

Allison isn’t really sure what Stiles is worried about, because Theo obviously fits right in. He’s here for the rest of the summer, and it turns out he works well with everyone. Jackson and him feel each other out and reach a sort of truce in the first few minutes of their acquaintance. No sparks, though. It’s interesting, the ways they all slot together. The things they see in each other. 

Two weeks before school starts up again, Derek hosts a pack get-together at his new place. Not the loft they all know, but his new place. He gives them the address the night before, and Allison puts it into her maps app only to find it’s like five minutes away. 

She calls him, and Derek picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” 

“Did you really buy a house just down the street without saying anything?” 

“I spoke to your dad,” Derek begins. 

“To me, asshole,” she says on top of him. 

Derek huffs out half a laugh. “Well,” he says. “I guess I’m not used to running my decisions by people.” 

“It’s not running it by me, it’s telling me because you want me to know,” Allison says. “Because it’s relevant.” 

“I see,” he says. “Like we’re friends.” 

“Right,” Allison says after a second. 

“Your dad’s calling,” Derek says abruptly, and hangs up. But that’s okay because he’s over in ten minutes anyways. 

Dad calls Allison downstairs, and she finds Derek on the couch in the living room. “What’s going on?” she asks. 

“Please sit,” Dad says. He seems weird. 

Allison listens, she sits next to Derek and gives him a look that he absorbs. Derek doesn’t know what’s going on either. 

Dad sits across from them, in a chair, and leans forwards. “I’m sorry,” Dad says with no preamble. He looks at Derek, in particularly. “I apologize for putting your life in danger. That wasn’t right.” 

Derek tilts his head, shocked. “Uh,” he says first, and Allison can’t remember if she’s ever heard him at a loss for words like this. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m fine.” 

“It’s not okay,” Dad says, his gaze level. Allison knows the way he sounds right now, knows his mind is made up. “I care. About both of you. And that means treating you better than I have. Okay?” 

Allison nods. Next to her, Derek does too. “Okay,” Allison says. “Thanks.” 

Unexpectedly, it looks like Dad’s tearing up. “I, uh,” he begins, and stops, and Allison wants to be anywhere but here. “I’m glad you said what you said, Ally, because it was the truth. And Derek.” 

Derek leans into her, pressing their shoulders together. “You guys really don’t have to worry about-” he begins. 

“We do,” Allison says. “Shut up.” 

“It’s not about having to,” Dad says clearly. “We’ve gotten too comfortable, turning off our empathy. Thinking that because you heal it’s okay to let you be a punching bag. That’s not how we’re going to be anymore. I want that to be clear, and I want you to be comfortable saying no to me. Are we clear?” 

They’re clear. Dad makes his exit to his office, where Allison’s sure he’ll reorganize his pens or something to make himself feel better. She opens her mouth, meaning to say something that she immediately forgets because Derek talks first. 

“You are my friend,” he says. “All of you are. That’s why I’m having you all over. I think… being cautious about our power dynamic is one thing. But it’s also been an excuse.” 

“Oh,” Allison says after a second. 

“I was going to say that on the phone, but then your dad called, so.” 

Allison nods, feeling kind of fragile. A lot of big conversations happening at once. 

“Are you okay, with me living-” he begins. 

“Yes,” she cuts him off. “I love it. I’ll come over all the time.” 

And then Derek wraps his arm around her shoulders for a brief, firm hug. It’s not even stiff or awkward, though Allison holds still anyways. “See you tomorrow night,” he says. 

“We’ll be there,” she answers.

Scott walks in without knocking before they’ve separated. The most confusing part of this is how Allison feels sort of like she’s been caught doing something wrong, but she tamps that down. “Hey babe! See you later,” she adds to Derek.

“Yep. Bye, Scott,” Derek adds then, as he passes Scott to get to the door. 

Scott gives Derek a tight, obviously fake smile and then continues to just stand there, near the door. “Is,” he begins, and pauses. 

“Just say it,” she says. “I promise I can take it. And we’ve sort of been dancing around this for…” 

“Years?” Scott suggests with a bit of a smile. He kicks off his shoes and then comes to join her, curling up in the spot Derek was just in. He sits sideways, leaning on the back of the couch, head resting on his arm, and looks at her. Allison matches this pose, and looks back at him. 

“A few years,” she agrees. 

“You like him,” he says, like he has to check that. 

“Yeah. And you don’t?” 

Scott wrinkles his nose. “It’s not that easy.”

“But you don’t like him. Right? You really don’t.” 

“It’s hard to like somebody who changed my life forever like this,” Scott says. “I know I shouldn’t blame him for it, but he’s part of it and I… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“You maybe want to tell him this is bothering you?” Allison suggests.

“Why?” 

“Because then you can talk about it.” 

“Doesn’t sound like Derek.” 

“He’s not who he was,” Allison says, and while she’s struggling with how to explain Scott takes her hand. He’s listening. “You know that Kate captured and tortured him, right? To find out who you are. And he didn’t say anything for like, days.” 

Scott nods. “I know,” he says. “I know he tries. I’ve talked about this with Isaac, actually.” 

Surprised, Allison frowns. “What?” 

“Well! He agrees with you. And I trust both of you, more than anything, so. I’m going to try and… change my mind.” Scott’s very cute, bashful and flustered in a way she hasn’t seen for a while. 

Allison leans in and kisses him, holding his face in her hands. “I love you,” she says then, looking into his eyes from a few inches away. “I _love_ you.” 

“I love you too,” he sighs, adorable and embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Except it kind of is a big deal. Scott’s faith in his sense of right and wrong is absolute, and usually right. This is maybe the third thing ever that Allison’s felt strongly enough to press the issue on, and it means so much to her that he listens. 

The next night, when they’re at Derek’s, Scott makes an effort. He comes with Allison and Isaac to say hi to Derek when they get there, which Derek is very happy about. Derek does a lot of very serviceable conversation-making, right up until Scott says, “Okay look. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel good, about how our… us, how we started. But we’re older, and things are more normal, and you did sort of save my life a couple times. So. Friends?” 

A small smile grows on Derek’s face. “Yeah,” he says. Scott sticks his hand out and they shake on it. “So does that mean you’ll try the brownies?” Derek adds after a second, surprising a smile out of Scott. And that’s basically that. 

Allison’s making herself a drink when Theo and Stiles get here. They come over to her first, since everyone else is talking. Allison gets the feeling that Theo’s nervous, sticking by Stiles for comfort, so she gives them both a warm smile. “Derek baked for this,” she says. “Have a cookie.” 

“He’s been unbearably smug about it,” Stiles says crossly. “As if it’s so hard to turn on a stand mixer.” 

Theo looks at Allison, and they share a moment of understanding. “Just talk to him,” Theo says. “All this repressed sexual tension is giving me a headache.” 

Stiles glares at Theo. “I’m not gonna go talk to him right away, that’d be weird. I’m going to wait an appropriate amount of time, and-” As he speaks, Derek approaches from behind. Allison keeps her eyes fixed on Stiles, so she doesn’t ruin the element of surprise. “-when there’s a natural sort of break in the conversation, I’ll say something extremely normal, like-” 

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek says from right behind him, and then joins them at the counter. “Did you try a cookie?” 

With real annoyance, Stiles picks up a cookie and has a demonstratively large bite of it. The expression on his face rapidly changes from irritation to delight. “They’re fine,” he says with a few crumbs, and shoves the rest of it into his mouth. 

Derek looks at Allison, and she meets his eyes. “How are you?” he asks. 

“I’m fine,” she says. “You?” 

“Good. Thanks for the wine.” 

“You didn’t leave me a ton of time to get a better housewarming gift, so.” 

“Doesn’t get better than alcohol,” Derek assures her, and pats her shoulder. 

Stiles stares. “So you’re casually touching people now?” he demands.

“Why, you want me to touch you?” Derek asks, and Stiles’ ears go pink. 

Theo raises his eyebrows, a grin spreading over his face. “Okay! I’m gonna leave you two alone.” He leaves, heading in Scott’s direction. 

“Yeah,” Allison begins, and takes a step after Theo. Derek stops her with an arm on her hand. 

“Hold on,” he says. “Stay here.” He looks at Stiles then. “Can we be serious for a second?” 

“Nothing’s stopping you,” Stiles says, and crosses his arms confrontationally. 

Derek sighs, crosses his arms too before deliberately uncrossing them and leaning on the counter. “Okay,” he says. “We’re all adults, here.” 

“Oh are we? Are we ready to admit that?” Stiles says sarcastically.

“Yes,” Derek says firmly. “We are. And, I’ve been in therapy, and my anchor isn’t anger anymore.” 

Stiles stares at Derek and then at Allison. “Okay,” he says, clearly waiting for some kind of trap. 

“So. You asked me to let you know, and that’s what I’m doing. I am… ready for you to take action,” Derek says, a little bit of a smile on his face. “If that’s something you’re still interested in.” 

Oh, Allison realizes belatedly. He’s nervous. She’s here for support. 

Stiles doesn’t waste a second; he takes Derek by the shoulders and pushes him against the fridge to kiss him, extremely thoroughly. Allison looks away, considers walking away. “Just for my own information, what’s your anchor now?” Stiles says in her peripheral vision. He’s talking basically directly into Derek’s mouth.

“You,” Derek says, like that should be obvious. And maybe it should be. 

“I cannot fucking believe it took _six fucking years_ -” Stiles begins, and then cuts himself off to go back in for another kiss. 

Allison escapes the kitchen, and rejoins the group in the living room. Scott and Isaac and Lydia are on the couch in that order. Jackson’s in a chair, Theo’s standing with his arms crossed, and Kira’s on the arm of the couch next to Lydia “Boy,” Allison says to nobody in particular. “Finally.” 

Isaac looks past her, then pulls out his wallet and hands Lydia a twenty. 

“When did we make bets?” Jackson demands. “I want in on the bets.” 

“Too late now,” Lydia says, very satisfied. 

“What was the bet? Who’d make the first move?” Theo wants to know. 

Lydia shakes her head. “We knew it’d be Stiles. The bet was on whether he’d make out with him or argue with him first.” 

“It could’ve gone either way,” Isaac says. And while Lydia’s face makes it clear she doesn’t agree, it’s a testament to her and Isaac’s friendship that she doesn’t say anything else. 

Eventually, Stiles and Derek emerge from the kitchen. Stiles comes first, and when everyone stares at them he throws his arms up in the air. “Okay!” he says. “Done with the attention now, thank you.” 

“Congratulations,” Isaac says solemnly. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Stiles tells him, and changes the subject to senior year and the apartment he’ll be sharing with Lydia and Kira. So everyone moves on, and doesn’t focus on Derek and Stiles which is good because Derek seems on the verge of a very polite breakdown. 

Erica stops by. She greets Derek with a big hug and Stiles with a punch, which Allison watches with a warm feeling in her chest. Derek’s starting to really have friends. 

“Hey,” Theo says, sidling up to her after a few minutes. “Who’s that?” 

“Erica,” Allison says. “Another member of Scott’s pack.”

“How many are there?” Theo asks. 

So Allison starts to list them, all the ones he’s met now and then Boyd, who’s in D.C, and Liam, who just finished up his first year at Stanford. Theo interrupts her around then. “Wait, so there’s seven of you?” 

“At least,” Allison says. “I know Scott’s keeping track of these twins we ran into before, he might’ve adopted them. And Liam’s got a friend from lacrosse who might join if he stays around here.” 

“People can just join?” 

“Well, he’s a true alpha. So yeah. Why, are you in the market for a new pack?” Allison asks, making sure to let it sound like a joke in case Theo needs it to be. 

Theo shrugs. “Well,” he says. “I don’t know where I’m going after graduation, so.”

Derek answers the door and lets Erica out and Liam in at the same time, then, and Theo trails off staring. Staring directly at Liam, actually, and then looking away when he realizes she’s caught him. “Who’s that?” he asks again, and Allison smiles. 

“I’ll introduce you.” 

Liam says hi to everyone and comes over when she gives him a look asking him to. “Hey, Allison,” he says happily, and gives her a hug. 

“Hi. This is Theo. He’s Stiles’ friend from college,” she says. 

“Oh, okay. Friend like Malia’s his friend?” Liam asks with a little smile. 

Theo rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately.” 

“Well, hi. I’m Liam. How’s your summer been?” 

They don’t need her here. After the introduction, they start flirting very capably. Allison leaves them to it, sits between Isaac and Scott and lets herself relax. It takes a little less practice than it used to. Comes easier. The pack is together. Specifically, Stiles and Derek are together. 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Stiles says loud enough to be heard over all other conversations. “It makes absolutely no sense that as a species, werewolves would include a way to infect others outside of reproduction and then make it have all these downsides! That makes less than negative sense from an evolutionary standpoint.” 

“Less than a negative is still negative,” Derek says. 

“Very glad you’ve got a grasp of elementary subtraction.” 

Derek lets himself smile, a little. “On my good days,” he says. “So what, you don’t think werewolves evolved.” 

“I’m a hundred percent sure they didn’t,” Stiles says, and then looks at Lydia for confirmation. She raises her eyebrows for a second, which Stiles takes as a solid yes. “The question is, what kind of moron designs a supernatural species this way? I’m thinking pre-Darwin.” 

“More like prehistoric,” Derek says. “The Argent family histories go back before France was even a country.”

“Hold on, why does Derek get to go through your family histories?” Stiles demands of Allison. “I want to see the family histories.” 

“Well, then you should talk to my dad,” Allison says. 

Stiles find this answer exasperating but before he can really work up any sort of response, Derek steps in. “Any particular reason you want to answer this question?” 

“Yeah, I want to-” Stiles doesn’t get to finish the sentence. 

Lydia screams. 

Before today, Allison never heard the wail of a banshee up close. It’s not an experience she’d like to repeat. It’s a multi-layer sound, almost immediately overwhelming. Her hearing dissolves into a dull sort of ringing, and still the sound pierces her mind. Allison doubles over, hands over her ears. She’s vaguely aware of everyone else doing the same. And then it’s over, so fast it takes several seconds to put it together. 

“Fuck! What the fuck was that?” Theo demands. 

Jackson gets up and goes to Lydia, takes the hand Kira isn’t holding and looks at her closely. “Hey, are you alright?” he asks with real concern. 

It’s a valid question. Lydia has tears running down her face. She only tilts her head in response. Can’t quite make her mouth form words.

“Who is it?” Derek asks. 

That she can answer. “Aiden.” 

Most of everyone exchanges confused looks, except for Stiles. “One of the twins,” he says. “Right?” 

Lydia manages a nod. 

“What?” Theo demands with increasing confusion. 

“She’s a banshee,” Liam explains, turning to look at Theo. “That means someone died. Someone in our pack.” 

Stiles sighs. “Tell me you didn’t actually adopt the twins,” he says to Scott. 

Scott isn’t in the mood for banter. “Where?” he asks her. 

“The…” Lydia takes a shaking deep breath. “I can take you. Downtown.” 

“I’m coming,” Jackson says. 

Isaac doesn’t say anything, but the way he kisses Allison makes it clear he’s going too. “Stay here, please?” he asks, and she nods. Scott and her share kiss and a hug too, and then the boys get up to put on their shoes. 

For a second, it looks like Derek’s going to volunteer, but Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand tightly and they exchange a moment of a look before Derek’s face seems to say he’s been convinced. He’s staying. And Liam is too - he and Scott have a brief discussion that ends with him agreeing to stay. 

“I can come,” Theo volunteers. 

“No,” Scott says. “Stay here. This isn’t your fight.” 

“I want it to be.” 

“Next time,” Scott promises. “There’s always a next time.” 

Kira helps Lydia get her shoes on, kisses her goodbye. And because Allison already said her goodbyes to her boyfriends, she hugs Jackson in this moment, too. He hugs her back so tightly, with a commitment that feels new. “You have a knife?” he says in her ear. 

“Yeah. And Derek has more.” 

Jackson kisses her cheek as they separate. “Okay. Lyd, hang onto me. We’re not losing you.” 

There’s a final kind of flurry of goodbyes from everyone and promises to keep phones on, and then the door shuts and they’re just here. Aiden died, and Lydia felt it, and Allison is avoiding looking at Derek because she doesn’t want to know if they’re on the same page. 

“A banshee,” Theo says after a second. 

“Yeah,” Stiles answers. “And I swear she keeps getting louder.” 

“She is,” Derek says, and stands up. “She’s coming into her power.” And Kira nods when he says that, like that’s something she’s heard of. 

What the fuck. Lydia is Allison’s best friend - why doesn’t Allison know this? “What does that mean?” Allison asks. 

“She’s been learning to focus it,” Kira says. “We’ve been taking trips into the wilderness to practice. She screamed a tree down.” 

Theo makes a face that thinks that’s stupid, which Stiles sees and begins arguing with him over. Kira joins in, teaming up with Stiles, but Theo is surprisingly able to hold his own. Almost like he’s got practice. And Liam’s just sort of looking at Theo with nearly-visible stars in his eyes, so that means the only one Allison has to look at is Derek. 

The awful thing about knowing Derek now is knowing from the first second of eye contact that they’re on the same page. “Allison,” he says. “Can you help me in the kitchen?” 

She nods. No one else even notices them go. 

“The hunter,” Derek says the moment they’re alone. 

“I think so too,” she says. “Do you have more knives?” 

He opens a kitchen cabinet and pulls out three, in hard sheathes. “More in the bedroom,” he says. “And under the couch, but I think that would probably give us away.” 

“Right.” Allison pulls each one out halfway, to check the blade, and then picks her favorite one to tuck into her waistband, another in her back pocket. “Tell me we didn’t just send them into a trap,” she says. 

“We haven’t,” he answers readily, and Derek isn’t the type to just say something so Allison breathes a little easier. “Lydia would’ve sensed that too. She said Aiden, she didn’t say anyone else.” 

It’s second nature to trust Lydia more than anyone else. “Okay,” Allison says. “Right. When do we tell the-” 

Stiles comes in as she’s talking. “Hey, are we scheming in here? I want to scheme,” he says in an undertone. 

“We aren’t,” Allison says, at the same time as Derek says the opposite. At that, Allison sighs. 

Derek knows exactly what that means. “I can’t lie to him now, we’re dating,” he says defensively. 

“Well, I’m glad someone values their relationship with me.” Stiles gives Allison a pointed look. 

“We’re trying to avoid a panic,” Allison says.

“Great way to start,” Stiles answers with no hesitation, nods a couple times with his mind several miles away. “You think whatever killed Aiden is coming after all of us?” 

“Yes,” Derek says. 

Stiles squints at him. “You have a specific idea about what that is.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hunters,” Allison says, since they got this far. “Coming after the pack.” 

Stiles nods some more. “Great.” 

They stand there in silence for a moment. “So Theo’s nice,” Derek says out of nowhere. 

“ _Nice?_ ” Stiles repeats, immediately distracted.

“Yeah. Y’know. Funny.” Derek looks at Allison for support.

“He does seem nice,” Allison confirms. “Why is that a bad thing to say? You brought him because you wanted us to like him.” 

With great drama, Stiles rolls his eyes and his neck. “Ugh. Biggest mistake of my life. I’m not letting him come back, tell Scott not to get attached.” 

“Bad news on that front,” Derek says. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Stiles tells him. “I want you to lie to me under specific circumstances.” 

Derek tilts his head and gives Stiles a real proper glare. “You can’t,” he begins with great emphasis, and Allison tunes them out. Or at least, she stops paying attention because all she can think about is how tonight’s rapidly turned into the kind of night where she has to think about seeing her friends tortured. Again. 

It feels a lot like a foregone conclusion, when things go wrong. 

Theo, Liam, and Derek all wince at something the humans can’t hear - Lydia screams again. So they all gather more weapons and pile into Stiles’ Jeep, Derek in the passenger seat and the other four crammed in the back. Kira squeezes Allison’s arm supportively. Liam tips his head against her shoulder for a second, a stiff sort of hug. “It’s okay,” he says. 

If anything has happened to anyone, Allison will tear the hunters apart with her own hands. That’s far from okay. But she nods, and avoids Stiles’ eyes in the rearview mirror. 

They track Lydia to an empty strip mall; the glass in every window is shattered, and there’s a bobbing light in the last one on the end. It’s Lydia,bent over Scott with her phone light on. All the wolves are down. And Allison doesn’t have more than a second to worry about it before Liam and Theo go down too - they rush forward towards Lydia, and then stumble and struggle to stay any kind of upright. Stiles and Kira are unaffected. Derek and Allison hadn’t moved, they hang back just outside the door, and when the boys go down Derek takes a step back. 

His eyes shine blue unexpectedly. “Wolfsbane,” he says, and Allison’s heart pounds so hard she can feel it in her ribs, hears it as a rapidly-escalating drumbeat in her ears. Maybe that’s why she misses the whistle of incoming fire. 

Derek definitely hears it because he reacts. Reacts by pulling her against his chest, shielding her from the fire and taking several slugs in his back that rock them both. He grunts, and tightens his arms around her. His eyes are still blue, but there are no claws digging into her. He’s in control, and - Allison lets herself connect this now - in control because he’s too loyal to everyone not to be. It’s what he can do, so he does it. 

“Get me a gun,” she whispers to him. 

“Just one?” he quips back, and lets go of her and leaps towards the gunmen in one smooth movement. He transforms midair, in a matter of seconds, lands on one of them and takes several more bullets. 

A pistol is arcing towards Allison’s hand and then another’s skidding towards her across the pavement. Before she gets the second one, she’s unloading the first into the knees of the hunters. Knees, when she wants it to be hearts and eyes. She wants to watch them stop breathing, and there are so many reasons she needs to win but the reason that pops into her head is that Derek isn’t allowed to die after really hugging her for the first time.

Derek staggers back to her. She counts four bullet holes in the front of him, at least three in the back. In front of her, he sinks to his knees and then falls onto his side in quick succession. Allison kneels with him, takes his face in her hands and makes the same promise he’d made to her all those years ago. “You’re not dying,” she says. 

“I’m not,” he agrees, and when she gives him her hand he squeezes tight. 

Stiles and Lydia and Kira, Allison learns later, found a wolfsbane-laced humidifier pumping through the vents and shut it down. Kira called 911. But in the moment, Allison goes from the parking lot to an ambulance ride, watching the skin around each bullet hole turn black from wolfsbane as Stiles crushes her hand in his. And from there, it’s directly to the ER waiting room. 

Scott and Isaac get there and crush her between them in a tight group hug. Allison shuts her eyes, listens to them breathing and reminds herself they’re alright. Just fine. “How’s Derek?” Scott asks, his voice muffled by her hair. 

“I don’t know, they won’t let us back,” Allison says. 

“Sounds like you need a distraction,” Isaac says. 

She loves them so much she can’t stand it. She wants to make out with them, or be really sickeningly honest about how much she loves them, or both. But later. Priorities. Isaac chats up the reception nurse and Scott gets Liam to punch him in the face and Allison slips past everyone to find Derek’s room.

It’s not hard to find. She follows the sound of Stiles’ voice. It’s really not a surprise to find him sitting at Derek’s bedside even though he said he was going to the bathroom. She’s sure, if she asked, he’d tell her he went to the bathroom first. And then just happened to find his way here, where he just so happened to begin explaining the particular hellish intricacies of the Chicago highway systems. Stiles loves by demanding, after all, and that’s such a good way to cover up how much of himself he gives, too. 

“Oh,” he says when he sees her. “There she is. The person that got my boyfriend shot not three hours after we started actually going out after my SIX YEARS of pining.” 

“He got himself shot,” she says. 

“Victim-blaming. Wow.” 

Allison makes herself look at Derek then, and again sees something she’s not ready for. He’s smiling at her. “Come here,” he says, and so she does. Derek pulls down the neck of his hospital gown to show her two patches of gauze on his chest. There must be more. “Melissa took the bullets out,” he says, his voice measured and even. “She neutralized the wolfsbane. I’m okay.” 

“I can see that,” she says. A lie, kind of. 

“Do you hear me, though?” 

“Why,” Stiles interjects, “does Allison have a problem with rapid onset deafness?” 

Derek ignores him, affectionately. “Ally,” he says. 

“I hear you,” she says. “I’m just… we promised just yesterday we wouldn’t make you get hurt and then-” 

“You didn’t make me,” he says. His gaze is steady, and warm. Derek doesn’t sugarcoat things. He just says them, or doesn’t. “You didn’t,” he repeats, and she really does hear what he means. It hurts her chest to breathe. 

“Wait,” Stiles says after a second. “This is kind of gross.” 

“What is?” Derek asks him obligingly.

“Well, if Allison’s like my sister and she’s also like your sister, doesn’t that make us brothers by the transitive property?” 

The mood is immediately changed. “I guess in a way,” Allison frowns. 

“No,” Derek answers definitively. “Don’t say that again.” 

“You’re like my brother and Scott actually is your brother,” Allison points out. “That doesn’t make it weird that we’re dating.” 

“But that’s Scott.” 

Allison, stunned, looks at Derek for support. Derek’s much more used to this, and significantly less thrown. “Stiles,” he says. “If you’d like to comment on something, please go ahead.” 

“I don’t want to!” Stiles protests. “It just seems like something one of you should’ve mentioned to me, the whole thing where you’re willing to die for each other all of a sudden. I thought I’d get a text, at least. Maybe a phone call. ‘Hey Stiles, we’re done trying to kill each other and our intimacy issues actually make us a pretty good match, friendship-wise.’” 

“I told you we were cool,” Derek says. Prime bait to set Stiles off, delivered with a straight face. 

Before Stiles can get going, Allison leans down and hugs him. “I’m so glad,” she begins and stops. 

“Me too,” Stiles says. He only manages to keep quiet for a few more seconds before he continues on his rant, which has become a general condemnation of city structures. Allison and Derek both just listen. 

Then the rest of the gang finds their way in, in ones and twos, perching on chairs or leaning against walls. Allison sees the moment Derek notices the real number of people here, people who are in his pack, watching his back. He feels her watching and looks at her, maybe for some kind of answer. Allison doesn’t have one, just the same question. But tonight isn’t about questions. It’s about family. 

**Author's Note:**

> Throughout the process of writing this I got ever more furious that Jeff never took advantage of the clear narrative foils he set up. Turn your location on, bro, I just want to talk basic plot structure. 
> 
> Also seriously, who paid Isaac's taxes? I know that dumbass didn't do it. Did he have a legal guardian we never met because it wasn't relevant to Scott's Journey?


End file.
